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by Evalena
Summary: my version of a naruto drabble collection. number six up: SASUKE AND SAKURA.
1. shikasaku : checkmate

**Hai, peoples. The beginning of my drabble collection.**

**And I know Shikamaru plays shougi, but correcting that would just ruin the theme, and so I made it chess. Think of it as an AU. :P**

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It only takes a flick of her wrist to bring him to his knees.

Well, not just a flick of her wrist. More like an enrapturing glow in the pupil of her right eye, a twitch of her lip, and _then_ a flick of her wrist. Her tiny, frail, delicate wrist. It was that moment, approximately three seconds ago, that he finally succumbed truly to the enigma named romance.

Oh, yes, he'd had his fill of women before; it was Ino for a little while first, even though they'd decided that really, _really_ good friends was better for the team relationship. And then it was Temari, but that relationship was just a little too troublesome (and he wasn't the type to convey romantic feelings through a weekly letter—that would require the effort to find a flattering enough adjective to describe the shade of her hair; somehow, the simile 'like soft, sandy mud' didn't seem very complimentary). Then, there were a few medics at the hospital, and a civilian girl or two.

But now, no. this time was quite obviously different.

In reality, no girl had actually been bothered enough to accept his lazy chess challenge and seem truly interested in the game rather than flirting with him. There was one other girl who'd played it with him, and she was too occupied with looking up at him amorously from under her eyelashes to notice that he'd beat her within four moves. Kakashi had always had some lame excuse, and for every time he gave one, Shikamaru felt an inkling of what Team 7 must have felt every day. But no, she was actually, truly _challenging_ him—a feat never seen before, except in his late sensei.

The invitation had just slipped out of his mouth before he could control it. _'Sit down, stay a while. Play a game or two.'_ He'd never expect that she'd actually accept. How was he supposed to know? Girls were always just so _cryptic_, indecipherable to most men in existence; why should she be any different?

No; a flick of her wrist, and the word 'checkmate'.


	2. team seven : kunai

There are still days he makes her feel like a child. Belittled, weak, useless, just another girl never meant to be a ninja—a _child._

She was never good at throwing weapons. Of course, a child was never able to truly become a ninja without at least some skill—it was a mandatory test in the academy. But she was never able to do it like the others did, could never flick her wrist and land it in the bullseye without looking, like he could. And oh, he never did let her forget it, even now—she is still inferior to him, she knows he is thinking, and for a venomous split second, she believes he is right. She can pulverize a boulder, shut down a nervous system, crack a mountain, even bring a man back from the dead, but it all means nothing in the face of that one particular failure.

It is why she practices in a different Training Ground now, not-so-deliberately avoiding him and the rest of her old team. She really is still like a child, in that respect, hiding from what is hurting her so much—she wishes she could say she was strong, was only able to look him in the eye, smile at him, and tell him that she knows she is weak, and vowing to get better. But she is only human, and can take it no longer.

Ino watches this, sometimes, as well as Chouji. He remarks on just how terrible it is, through a mouthful of chips, that the attentions of a sweet, wonderful girl like Sakura are wasted away on such a demeaning attitude like Sasuke's.

Silently, Ino agrees.

Sakura was never good at throwing weapons.


	3. sakura : solidify

she remembers what she was without him. she was _nothing._

and even now it damn near kills her to say it; _yes, you did matter to me, no, I couldn't have lived without you, yes, it was all for you._ it kills her to tell him the truth, but she cannot bear to lie to him, because he has been lied to all his life, and she will allow him mercy—just for this.

(_because he has been broken, broken over and over again until he has shattered into irreparable pieces, and isn't she supposed to be a healer)_

before sasuke, sakura was useless. had no purpose. had no real meaning. she was just _there_, always there, in plain sight but might as well have been in the shadows for as much as she was seen, and then she met _handsome sasuke-kun, _and had a motivation. you know this, know how she worked and worked until finally, iruka-sensei looked upon her and said _what a smart girl, good job._

(_pity sasuke-kun wasn't there to see the radiant smile on her face)_

and then, when they were put on the same team, oh did she work. it was never truly fruitful, not until later, but she tried even harder to excel, her grip on the kunai intensifying with every thought of impressing the enigmatic boy who perfected every shot.

she almost lost it all when he left. She was falling, falling, almost to her death at the bottom when naruto came back defeated with apologies and and a look too broken to ever appear in such a boy's eyes, and gave her a rope to pull herself up on.

(_because even in pain and regret, that jesus complex just never gave up, did it?)_

it is painful, but sakura acknowledges that without him, she had been shapeless, useless, a mess. but sasuke gave her purpose, and only for that is she grateful.


	4. gaasaku : hostess

**Teehee, I like this one. Excuse the lame band name.**

It was on the way to the guidance counselor. _The old coot_, she thought, _summoning me during my study hall. Passing that damn biology test means a little more than volleyball tryouts right now!_ She powerwalked down the narrow hallway, dodging hung pictures for fear of knocking them over, grumbling all the while.

Of course, the ancient had to call her just as she was cracking her books with Tenten. It was so typical. For someone so bent on academic achievement, Mrs. Fukumi sure knew how to prevent _hers._ She had to've known that the Biology test was worth a third of Sakura's grade (nearing the end of the quarter and all), and _knew_ she was one of the few that actually studied during study hall, so what was she trying to play at? Sakura closed her eyes in exasperation, repeatedly commanding herself to breathe like a mantra—

—and her nose suddenly hurt. Very badly. She stepped back, holding said appendage, and finally lifted her eyelids. She was met with the letters 'ANCE COU', suddenly all she could see, until she moved ever farther back, and spotted the entire phrase.

'GUIDANCE COUNSELOR'. Was she there already? Why was the door open? And why didn't the collision move it? Suddenly, she spotted a tuft of bright crimson, and peeking around the door, she saw a boy.

He was pale. Paler than her, even, like Sasuke's pale; he probably had a little more color when he wasn't wearing all that spotless black, if there was ever such an instance. His turquoise eyes stood out in sharp relief from the thick black around his eyes, which contrasted with his pale skin, and the bright red hair stood out even more. Everything about his coloring was ostentatious and two-toned. He stared at her with glassy eyes, unblinking, emotionless.

And then, randomly, a cheerful old voice broke the air.

"Oh, Sakura darling! You're here already! Come now, inside the office, both of you. Why are you holding your nose like that, dear?" The stout older lady ushered the two teens into her air-conditioned, bland office, seating them in two gray chairs situated in front of her desk. She toddled over to the other side, plopping herself down in her own leather office chair, and rested her elbows on the lacquered desk, positioning her fingers in 'evil villain' pose, fingertips touching.

"Okay, I hate to rush, but we need to get down to business. It's already third period, and Sakura has a biology test to study for, don't you, dear?"

Sakura's eye twitched.

"Mkay, Miss Haruno, this is Sabaku no Gaara. He's the son of the governor of Suna, who has recently passed away, so his family has relocated to Konoha. Gaara-san will be attending our school from now on, and I would like you, Miss Haruno, a star student, to be his guide."

_Wait a minute. Hold the phone, switch lines, and call the operator—what?!_

"S-say that again?" Sakura asked, in shock. Fukumi smiled at her gently.

"I would appreciate it if you would show Gaara-san around the school—you know, classroom and locker location, cafeteria, all the little things. Introduce to him all the options we have for him here at this wonderful school. Would you please, dear?" She smiled at Sakura happily, benignly, and the roseate damn near stabbed the old woman in the eye.

But...what choice did she have? She nodded, swallowing an ominous lumpy thing that had formed in her esophagus, and forcing a polite smile.

"Oh, that's just wonderful! Okay, dear, here's your schedule; Sakura will show you to the classes and tell you where everything is. Do either of you have any questions? No? Okay, good! On your way now, fourth period begins in ten minutes!" Urging the two to stand up, she ushered them out into the hallway, waving chipperly to them and then quickly shutting the door.

An awkward silence settled in the air between the two, broken only by the screaming of the book-change bell, and then the clearing of her throat.

"Can we make a quick stop at my locker first?" She asks him sheepishly, and he nods blankly, wordlessly, once.

And as she pulled out her Japanese History binder, she saw his eyes magnetize to the 'The Phonetics' sticker slapped carelessly among the rest, though it is her favorite, and a glint shone in his eye.

"You like that band?" he asked her hoarsely, and her smile was bright.

"This is the dawning of a beautiful friendship, I think, Gaara-san," she chirped. Gaara is only minutely scared.


	5. kakashi and sakura : watch

It seemed like Kakashi could never do right by this girl.

No, he chuckled, he definitely couldn't. When she was a genin, he completely ignored her, didn't he? He muses with his thumb on his lip, watching her throw the kunai viciously at the targets and lodging it in the bullseye every time. _I certainly never taught her that. Was it Tsunade? Kurenai? Herself?_

He does have his distant memories of this exact training exercise seven years ago. Her wrists were a little more fragile then, and twisted all wrong, so that the weapons she pitifully attempted to throw landed weakly in the grass four feet too short of the target. He remembers the defeated look in her eye, and the way she glanced over at her precious Sasuke-kun, with his aloof attitude and perfect shot. No, that he remembers, and he also remembers the pang of sympathy that came with it.

Not empathy, though. Much like Sasuke, he had always been superb.

-

He also, in fact, remembers the incredibly short conversation he'd had that had made him wake up, smell the roses, _look at her._ It was a long time coming, he'd thought. _She is, after all, my student._

She'd collapsed during training. Run herself straight out of chakra, with hospital shifts and constant training with her old team on top of her shoulders, pressuring her until her knees gave out and she fell straight to the dirty ground. Scared him half to death, too—he jumped into action right away, with a bark at the boys to keep training and immediately streaking off towards the hospital.

Something about the sight of a pallid Sakura in a hospital bed shook him harder than he'd have liked. So he opted to wait outside her room, back and one foot leaned against the wall and the other leg out supporting him, hands shoved into his pockets and fingers toying with the seams at the bottom. Tsunade found him that way, and with one gleaming caramel look of disappointment, beckoned him with a red-tipped hand back into the hospital room.

Couldn't very well disobey a Hokage, now could he?

She gestured for him to sit in the seat next to Sakura's bed. Of course, he'd found it uncomfortably stiff, but he'd done so anyway, watching the pen in her hands twitch with its movements across her chart. And when she was done filling out miscellaneous lines, she set down the pen, snapped the binder shut, and fixed her soft, maternal gaze on the sleeping girl.

Silence reigned over the room. Kakashi remembered to stay completely still, not wanting to distract the woman with the sounds of ruffling fabric, but she broke it anyway.

"Such a pretty young one, isn't she?"

Lazily, he turned his silver head to look at his first and only female student. He supposed Tsunade was right. Perfect skin, soft, full lips, long, voluminous eyelashes that fluttered softly. She'd be even prettier with her eyes open.

He was unaware Tsunade was looking at him, until she spoke again.

"She has no father."

That was very unexpected. Very out of the blue, and once again, Kakashi got quite the unexpected shock. His eyes flickered back to his busty superior. She was looking at him with those hard, shiny eyes again, an unidentifiable message laid behind them—expectancy? Did she mean what he thought she did?

And before he could ask her if he was in fact correct in her implications, she said, "Watch over that girl. Better yet, just watch her. You won't want to miss anything."

And with the sound of a closing door, there was a flood of emotions; like the sleeping face of his only girl had broken a dam.

-

And now, he does watch her. He watches this confident, nineteen-year-old _woman_, with a stronger, steadier hand, conviction in her eyes, a confident smile, and a crowded bullseye. There is a decision to make, and his subconscious made it for him four years ago.

"Okay, I think that's enough warming up. Sasuke, Naruto, you guys are sparring today. Don't destroy each other too bad, because Sakura _will not_ have the chakra to heal you. Off you go."

The team shared a confused look, but he taught the boys well, for they sauntered off obediently, squabbling over trivial things all the while. And his one, singular female student looked at him with bright, inquisitional eyes, the word "Sensei?" on her lips.

He never could do right by this girl—

"The jounin exams are coming soon, right?"

She nods.

"How many genjutsu do you know?"

—but he would damn well try.

* * *

**I am extremely fond of this one. Very, very much so.**


	6. sasusaku : the other

**I actually don't like this one. Shock! :P**

**I get this idea whenever I listen to 'El Tango de Roxanne' from Moulin Rouge. Good soundtrack music for this, I guess.  
**

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Sasuke hates this mission.

The hatred is strong, boiling and screaming in his blood, in his head, shouting _DO SOMETHING!_ And he cannot. For all he can do is watch, for he is a loyal Konohan citizen, and will not botch the mission over something so trivial—personal—_emotional. _

And yet, he thinks, watching her swirl in his arms, in his aura, in that _dress_, he wants so badly to break the rules.

Because she is very convincing in her enjoyment. The gleam in her eyes seems too real, to enthralled, too enchanted, and Sasuke is like a wolf in that he can smell something wrong in the air. He watches the girl with dark eyes, blending in with his suit—his entire being is a shadow, watching her light from within his darkness.

The dress is coral. It has ivory ribbons, to match her skin, and flowing pink fabric, to match her cheeks and hair, and everything about her just spells out innocent, blushing target, and the man is in blue. Navy blue. Like his own eyes, and Sasuke is darker, in every way but intentions. It's obvious by the

_(hungry) _

look on his face that the other man does not intend to win in that respect.

Sasuke is gripping the pretty, lacy tablecloth, wrinkling the delicate material in his shinobi grip, and Kakashi is starting to notice. There is a hand on his arm, and he cannot tense at the contact, because if he had, he would surely snap.

It is now, as he watches her swimming in the fabric and the man's eyes romaing over her soft skin, that Sasuke realizes he is the other one.

He is going to watch from the sidelines now.


End file.
